


Deliver Me from Worry

by PhantomhiveStripper



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 14:31:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10641819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomhiveStripper/pseuds/PhantomhiveStripper
Summary: Rick cant handle Morty announcing that he's going away to college. Feelings get hurt, but it all turns out ok, because they're Rick and Morty, a hundred years, forever and ever.





	

“What the FUCK do you mean you’re going to college?”

  
Morty took a step back from Rick, his face drawing into a confused frown. “W-What? It’s – it’s senior year, I finish high school in a month, Rick. It’s just something I pictured myself doing you know?”

Rick was staring at Morty in a way that made him feel small and stupid, like how it used to be when Morty was younger. The look on his face is a cross between incredulous and raging.

“College, Morty? Why? What the fuck are you going to get with a college degree, huh Morty? Some office job? You’re gonna become a fucking bureaucrat, Morty?” He’s almost hissing now, stepping closer and closer to Morty, spit flying and landing in large drops on the counter. “I’ve seen your grades anyway, how euRRRRGh fuck do you plan to get in? To pass?”

Morty feels the stabbing sinking feeling in his chest that he always gets when Rick insults him, degrades and belittles him. But now he’s mad too; Rick doesn’t fucking know what he's talking about.

“Fuck y-you, Rick! I’ve already been accepted to Lake Michigan! I do other shit apart from f-f-f-follow you around in your stupid little spaceship, you know! I worked fucking hard th-this y-y-year, I’ve got a fucking 3.1 GPA, no thanks to you!” Now Morty is the one spitting, ignoring the way Ricks entire face drops at the mention of his acceptance. He’s dealt with this shit for too long; he’s not stupid, no matter what Rick says.

“Fine then,” Rick says, his face ugly and twisted. “Do whatever the fuck you want, Morty. It doesn’t matter to me; you’re useless on adventures anyway. Go do your stupid fucking degree, and get a job as some paper pusher with a eURRRGH house in California, and have a shitty marriage and annoying kids and work until you die, cause that’s what’ll happen Morty! That’s exactly what’s going to happen when you leave, and don’t ever come crying back to Grandpa Rick.”

“And what’s the alternative, Rick? What d-d-did you think was going to happen, I’d just stay here for the rest of my life and just s-s-spend my time following you on sh-shitty adventures and being treated like shit? How’s that gonna p-p-pay b-b-bills, Rick? How’s that going to get me a family, Rick? It’s fine for you – you just bludger off of your d-daughter cause you don’t earn any money, and you don’t care about dying alone because you’re a sssselfish asshole old man, but I actually care about that shit. So d-d-don’t p-preach to me, cause my worst nightmare is ending up like you!”

Rick looks like he’s been hit in the chest with a brick, but Morty can’t bring himself to care. For four years Rick has put him down, told him how disposable and inconsequential he was. Well he was going to go out and make a life for himself, without the fucking ball and chain that was his mean drunk of a grandfather. He can’t believe he even bothered trying to explain, how he could have ever thought that Rick would be supportive. Morty turns and storms out of the garage, ignoring the hot tears spilling down his cheeks.

\--

Beth was on her way to the loo when she spotted her father sitting up at the kitchen table. While his sleeping patterns were certainly nothing ordinary, he was usually in the garage, or in his or Morty’s room. Yet she had an inkling as to why he was out here tonight.

Sure enough, when she crept closer, Rick had the family photo album in front of him, open in the middle. He was resting his head in his hand, lab-coat lying on the ground.  
Beth crept closer, ignoring her complaining bladder to pull a chair out across from her dad. He jumped at the sound, looking up at her startled. He immediately slammed the album shut and slid it behind his elbow, as though he thought he could hide it. Honestly, he and Morty were just as bad as each other.

“Hey Dad,” she said. “Pretty cute photos, huh?”

He pulled his elbow off the album and gave a grudging smile. “I suppose the little shits were the least ugly at this stage in their lives.” She notices the uncommon glint in his eyes that speaks of sobriety.

There are a few passing moments of silence before Beth speaks out again. “You know, I don’t know what happened between you and Morty, but you’ve both been miserable. He’s barely left his room, you’ve barely left the garage, he’s even refusing to come eat at the dinner table with you.”

“Dramatic little fucker,” Rick grumbles. “Always knew that one was a pathetic, over-sensitive, wimpy little piece of-”

“Dad,” Beth cut in sharply. “That is my son, you know.”

Rick lets out a slow breath. She doesn’t speak, just looks at the lines in his forehead which have seemed so much deeper lately.

“Did you know the little fuckers leaving?” Rick finally says. “He’s fucking off to college, two hours drive away. He’s going to turn into some fucking brainless, mindless waste of space like that douchebag Jerry. I should have known he’d turn out like that, no matter how much I tried to be a good influence.”

At that, Beth had to let out a snort. “Dad, you’ve definitely influenced Morty, but I don’t think anyone in the universe would say it was a good influence.” He looks down at the table. “But, seriously, a two hour drive? That’s what, ten minutes in your spaceship? And he’s studying Spanish and Philosophy, Rick, he’s hardly going to be busy all the time.

“Wait – what?” Rick’s eyebrows are high on his forehead. “He’s studying philosophy? He’ll last two weeks, I’m calling it.”

Despite the joke, her dad’s eyes are still overcast and his mouth is downturned. “You know dad, he’s not leaving you. He’s just trying to be a regular person.”  
  
“But Beth, he’s not a regular person, he’s my grandson, he doesn’t belong in some weird educational institution!

Beth sighs and places her hand over her father’s grey one. He pulls away after a second, but she keeps it there. “Dad. I had to let Summer go; admittedly, it was to a boyfriends house three blocks away, but it’s the same thing. He’s growing into his own person, just like everyone does, and you have to let him go. He’ll still be there for you.”

“But he won’t have any reason to,” Rick argued, running a hand through his hair. “I really am a dick to him, Beth. And now he can go away and make his new life with no room for me, or you, or anything else, and we’ll lose him.” Ricks hand slide down to press his palms into his eyes. He sucks in a deep breath, and his voice starts to sound thick. “He hates me now. I was a real douchebag, Beth. I know he belongs with me, out kicking alien asses and having each other’s backs, being Rick and Morty, a hundred years, forever and ever, but I was a dick, and now he’s leaving me.”

“Dad,” Beth says, surprising herself and her father with the sharpness of her tone. “You and Morty are something else. Really. If you’re both so messed up about this fight, and you have shit to say, then go fucking talk to him, for Christ’s sake.”

Then she takes Rick’s wrist and grips, this time refusing to let go when he tries to pull away. “You’re more of a father to Morty than you ever were to me, and I don’t care about that. But don’t fuck it up, please. Go to his room, and wake him up, and tell him that the only reason you’re fighting is because you’re an emotionally stunted asshole who can’t let his feelings out in the appropriate manner.”

With that Beth goes to finally relieve her aching bladder. They’ll make up, she’s sure. After all, they’re Rick and Morty, a hundred years, whatever all that shit was about.

\--

“Hey, Morty.”

Morty wakes up to a sound he hasn’t heard in what feels like forever, but for a second nothing is amiss. Then he remembers all the harsh words, and makes his best effort to make his voice cold.

“What do you want, Rick.”

“Can – can I come in?”

And that gets Morty’s attention, because since when does Rick ask that kind of shit?

“Whatever.”

The light flicks on and Morty sits up in bed, watching as Rick makes his way into the room and sits on the end of Morty’s bed. Morty would describe the way he moves as tentative, except Rick has never done anything tentative in his life (except when he had to feed that 10,000 toothed Vernazulog Raptor to get past a crossroads).

Morty looks at Rick for a second, waiting for him to speak. He looks pretty bad, to be honest; normally Rick looks 30 years younger than he is because of the spark in his eyes, but now they’re bloodshot and bagged, making the wrinkles in his face look deep, making him look old.

“The only reason we’re fighting is because I’m an emotionally stunted asshole who can’t let my feelings out in the appropriate manner.”

Morty is silent for a few seconds as this processes.

Then he bursts into laughter.

“Hey,” Rick is saying as Morty cackles, his tone offended. “What’s so funny?”

Morty calms himself down, letting out soft giggles at the frown on Ricks face. “You c-couldn’t sound more like my mom if you t-t-tried. That was obviously not in any way from you. But it does mean you went to my mom with your problems, wh-which-which means you were kinda cut up about fighting. So, yes Rick, we can be friends again, and I forgive you for being an asshole about my f-f-future.”

Rick seems to sag with relief, and lays backwards onto Morty’s knees. “I don’t actually think you’re a useless idiot, you know.”

“And I don’t really think you’re a bludgering, s-s-selfish, asshole old man. Maybe a little bit, but not really.”

Rick laughs, his eyes drifting closed. “Seriously, Morty, I’m gonna kinda miss having you around. Shit won’t be as fun when you’re off fucking, fucking studying, and banging hot chicks, and doing college stuff.”

“You know Rick, I’ll be back home every m-midterm break, and the three months over summer, and it’s only t-ten minutes away in your car so you can visit on weekends and stuff. We can still h-h-hang out all the time, and it’s a two year course. You r-r-reckon you’ll live two more years, Rick?”

Rick punches him hard in the thigh, but it’s okay, because he mumbles “Rick and Morty, a hundred years…” and then rolls onto the other side of the bed. Morty hears snores, which is a little inconvenient because he’s now confined to a third of a single bed and also Rick smells like sweat and silver nitrate, but he doesn’t mind too much.

“Rick and Morty, forever and forever, a hundred years,” he mumbles into his pillow, before he drifts asleep, the warmth of Rick a comforting weight at his side.


End file.
